Real Boys, Kiss Boys
by CornCrackersAndSlash
Summary: After a long period of denial and confusion, Eric finally comes to terms with his feelings toward Kyle, and sets out to prove his love to the person he has constantly fought with for almost 11 years with help from a caring friend. [Cartman's P.O.V]


"_Shine the headlight, _

_Straight into my eyes,_

_Like the road kill, _

_I'm paralysed._

_You see through my disguise._

_At the drive-in,_

_Double feature,_

_Pull the lever, _

_Break the fever,_

_And say your last goodbyes._

_Since I was born, I've started to decay;_

_Now nothing ever, ever goes my way…"_

-"Teenage Angst," Placebo

**Authors Note:** I'm going to write up a hella long Author's Note, just because I'm a bothersome, sadistic bitch.

Okay, okay. First things first; WHERE THE FUCK IS MY COFFEE? No joke; I've been working Chapter One of this fic for fucking two and half months. No, scratch that… technically, I've actually been working on it for roughly a total of 7-10 days, spread throughout 2-3 months. Today, the twelfth of April, I _finally_ followed through with my objective of finishing Chapter One of this little sucker. Yes, I'm quite aware that I'm an extremely lazy person. XP.

Even though I've been writing fanfiction for vaguely 2 years, I've never really took the initiative of submitting any of my shit on or any other fanfiction site. The fact of the matter is that, I simply don't have time to type up my fanfics, edit them, snip, snap, fuss and fuck around with them, because of my slothful tendencies and my commitment to school. Hell, I still have to polish bits here and there of _this_ fic. I figured that if I submitted a sample of my stuff here and the result was excellent reviews by fellow authors/ fans, that I'd be a hella lot more motivated and encouraged to submit more of my shit.

_**I'm in major need of some motivation, people. Stimulate me! **(NO, not like **that**, you pervert.)_

I'm going to be even more bothersome and take up more room to thank my good friend, Lior, for helping me polish up this fic a bit. (She goes by the name, **_Rakal _**on this site… oh my god, check out her fics!) Put crudely, is the biggest spelling and grammar Nazi I have ever met. I guess she is like my, uh, beta-reader… y'know, my editor. I emailed Chapter One of this fic to her about 3 weeks ago, y'know, because I was aching for honest feedback from someone I trust. I got an email back from her a day later, pointing out all my errors, (there were a hell of a lot!) and explaining the ways I can change them. So, thanks for the advice, Lior. It's much appreciated. (I still kept the song lyrics, bitch. XD.)

Okay, enough about my love affair with fanfiction. Let's get cracking onto the real purpose of the Author's Note; the **fanfic **itself. Hmm… let's see. Well, uh, I guess it's obvious to say that the substance of this fic is **Kyle/Cartman** Slash, topped off with lashings of **Cartman/Kenny**. Yummy, yummy.

_Noooo…_ hardly yummy, I'd say.

The palpable basis of this fic is Slash, intertwined with Angst and sprinkled with Tragedy. I'm just going to say that this fic is going to be pretty dark… pretty intense. That's all I'm saying, though. So, for now, I'm going to keep a lid on my big mouth, and just let the story flow.

So, if you adore stories of 2 male cartoon characters falling in love and all that mushy stuff, I advise you to sit down, relax, perhaps make yourself a cup of Tetley Tea and get ready to drink deep from the sweet waters of _glorious _**South Park Slash.**

**Peace and Sodomy,**

_**- CornCrackers **_

**Real Boys, Kiss Boys.**

**Prologue**

"_I'm sailing away,_

_Set an open course for the virgin sea_

_Because I've got to be free;_

_Free to face the life that's ahead of me…"_

"Poopikins, time to go to school…"

I refuse to get out of bed today. Just like I refused yesterday… and the day before. There is no fucking way I'm freezing my ass off in that snow storm outside.

"_I look to the sea…_

_Reflections in the waves spark my memories"_

"Now, hon…"

Although, I'm not just staying home because of the snowstorm; it's for another reason aswell…

"_Some happy, some sad_

_I think of childhood friends_

_And the dreams we had…"_

Something… _weird_ happened to me about three weeks ago.

"_We live happily forever;_

_So the story goes…"_

One night, I woke up in a cold sweat; my palms were all sweaty, my stomach was churning and I had this… overwhelming, almost _pulsating _feeling…

"_But somehow we missed out_

_On the pot of gold…" _

It was my chest… it hurt… like someone had a hold of my heart; both mentally and physically. The feeling was both wounding and liberating at the same time. It made me feel alive… It made me feel broken… It made me feel… human.

"_And we try…"_

That feeling had gradually gotten stronger over the past couple of weeks.

"…_best as we can…"_

I haven't told anyone yet. I don't want to tell anyone… especially the guys. They'd think it's kinda… _strange_…

"… _too carry on."_

It only happens around… _Kyle._

**Chapter One: School Days, School Daze**

"Come sail away, come sail away, come sail away with me…"

I remain in my warm, toasty bed still singing that song, waiting for the time to pass. I can faintly hear mom yelling from downstairs, yelling at me to get up and get ready for school. I know for a fact that she won't let me stay home _another_ day; she says my education is "important" and that my marks need to improve if I'm ever going to get somewhere in life… _yeah, sure mom_… just another lame excuse to make me sit down and study, so I can "get somewhere in life." Fuck, the reality is that I'm going to end up an obese, lazy and underpaid plumber or trucker no matter what… no matter how hard I try at school and no matter how much I study, I know for a fact that I'll never succeed... never. And even though she'd never admit it, Mom knows as well as I do that I'm a big, fat failure_… Stupid bitch._

My eyes wander over to the window; the sky is painted a depressing shade of grey (as it always is) and it's blowing snow like crazy. I'm actually surprised that school _wasn't_ cancelled today… I can hardly see anything outside. I smile, as I picture Kyle, Stan and Kenny waiting at the bus stop in the snowstorm, freezing their ass off. I wonder what they'd be talking about if I weren't there; "Cartman is _such_ a fatass…" I imagine Kyle would say; either that, or something of the sort… Fat tits, lard butt, any other fat joke that he and Stan can come up with… _Stupid Jew. _Why do I even hang out with him anyway? Why do I even hang out with _any_ of those assholes?

"ERIC THEODORE CARTMAN! GET OUT OF BED THIS _INSTANT!"_

I scramble out of bed almost immediately; I know that Mom isn't messing around when she uses _that_ tone of voice. I stumble to the bathroom and take a pee. "Looks like I'll be joining the assholes today," I think to myself as I walk out, not bothering to wash my hands.

Coldness hits me as soon as I step outside, even through the two layers of jackets Mom made me wear. She hands me another one, "just incase my poopikins gets cold." As soon as she hands me my schoolbag, I waste no time hurriedly walking away to avoid her daily "give Mommy 'Eskimo kisses'" routine

… _No such luck_

"Eric, come and kiss Mommy goodbye," she chirps after me.

I sigh and turn around, giving her a reluctant smile_. I'm not fucking eight years old anymore, _ I mumble in mind as she kisses me on the cheek.

"You be a good boy for Mommy, won't you Eric?"

"Yes, Moooom…" I sigh, jadedly

"And don't let the other children make fun of your weight… remember; you're just big boned…"

Mom has been using the "you're just big boned" excuse for all my life; she would never admit that I was fat, even though she knew very well that I was. Yet, she still carries on the excuses, probably considering that I haven't figured out that I'm not actually big boned yet. I grew up believing that "I just hadn't grown into my body" and I would make a fool of myself telling that to the other kids who teased me. It's taken me seven years to realise that Iamfat. Yes, I'm fat. I'm fucking _fat _and it hurts me to admit it. No matter what Mom says, I know for a fact that I'm fat_… _and unfortunately, so do Stan, Kenny and Kyle.

"I've packed you some snacky cakes, cheesy poofs and some leftover beefy roast from last night in case you get hungry after lunch"

I shake my head, disillusioned… doesn't she realise that I'm **_fat_** enough as it is, without her feeding me more junk food? She is to blame for all the years of anger, contempt and pain the other kids at school have given me, owing to my weight. In a sense, you could say that Mom is my worst enemy; (alongside fatty foods and Kyle Brofloski, of course.)

I walk, hands in pockets, eyes on feet. I don't look up… I don't want to look up. Besides, I've seen it all before… South Park, my hometown, hasn't changed at all since I was eight years old. Despite that South Park Elementary has introduced a high school and a few more shops and houses have been scattered around the town, nothing has changed. The colour of the sky always remains grey, it snows here twenty-four seven, I still live in the same house, I still walk the same fucking route to the bus stop everyday and I _still_ hang out with those assholes that I despise with every inch of my body; Jock, Welfare and Jew. I'd often ask myself… why? Why do I even hang out with them if I hate them so much? I mean, just look at them…

Stan; being such a hotshot; your typical high school Jock… or should I say **_jerk. _**Perfect hair, perfect teeth and perfect face all complete with an athletic, six- packed body. The whole package. All the stupid skanks in Grade Nine are obsessed with him. I don't see what the big deal is... personally; I think Stan is a pretty boy. Although, despite his looks, we all know that for a fact that he is emotionally unstable and dependant on relationships. That stupid jock's world revolves around his irritating, conceited girlfriend, Wendy Testerburger and would do absolutely anything for that Paris Hilton wannabe. Sometimes, (although I'd never admit it,) I'm kind of jealous of Stan. Speaking from a physical point of view; if I was as tall and handsome as he was, I would have girls crawling all over me as well. But, unfortunately, I'm the exact opposite.

… _Fucking Jock_

Kenny; Kenny is… queer. Not speaking in the literal sense, but he is just really… strange. I've always secretly thought that Kenny was the most creative person in our group and I've always admired him for that quality. However, I still hate him. I'd consider him to be the most mature person I've ever met… amongst my peers. The only downside to him is that he is still a poor fuck living off welfare, and is already starting to drink, smoke and have sex… well; I suppose that's what you get for having an alcoholic for a Dad.

… _Fucking poor-ass_

Kyle; that Jew… _that god damn Jew_. If I was asked to describe him in one word, I'd probably beat down the person that asked me in the first place. A thousand words can describe that Jesus killer… and not one of them would be nice. We've never gotten along and we never will get along. We've known each other for almost eleven years and our hate for each other keeps growing stronger everyday. But, it's funny… I'd often ask myself why we despise each other so much. What are the causes of bitterness and tension between us? Personality clashes, different opinions, views of religion and cultural differences… I know those aspects contribute to the hostility, but I know deep inside that it is something else as well… I just haven't figured it out yet.

… _Fucking Jew_

_God, I hate those guys._

I just realized that I was almost at the bus stop now; I could see the douche bags up ahead… Stan, Kenny and Jew. I could tell from here that they were just as pleased about the weather as I was. Just looking at them, standing there in order… it kind of reminded me of the earlier days… when we were children. It always went Stan, Kyle, Me, Kenny; except now, there was a space between Kyle and Kenny. Obviously intended for me, in which I will fill in exactly seventeen seconds. It's a routine we've practiced for seven years, without even knowing it. Although, I'd often wonder why I was always next to Kyle; if anything, I should be on the end next to Kenny or Stan, but not next to Kyle; way too much dire history… _Stupid Jew. _

They sighed in unison as I approached them.

"Hey assholes, what's going on?" I chirped, beaming at them with my hands behind my back.

Stan looked up, his expression of condescension not changing at all

"Hey Cartman…" he mumbled, half-heartedly

I glanced over at Kyle; his livid eyes were slitting into the slush- covered ground and he was muttering something to himself in exasperation. I didn't doubt that it was something about my body weight.

"I was hoping you wouldn't come today, fatass," he grumbled, not bothering to look up, "At least I wouldn't have to put up with your bullshit for _one_ day…"

I smile at the fact that I haven't even said one word to Kyle, and he is already pissed off. It is usually the other way around.

"Kyle," I whispered, trying my best to look concerned, "you seem a little irritable… you got some sand in your vagina?"

I heard a muffled chuckle from Kenny, but Stan and Kyle shot me aggravated glances.

"Dude, don't be a douche bag," Stan said in a tired tone, "we haven't even been back at school for seven days, and you're already starting to piss everybody off…"

"Hey, I wasn't the one to pick the fight in the first place… and you should know by now that my aim in life is to piss off everybody here… so get used to it."

They both sighed and continued to stare at the snow in dreariness. I could tell that they couldn't bother to argue with me anymore; they were already pissed off with the weather enough as it was. They didn't need to be pissed off at me as well.

"Bus," I heard Kenny say, his voice muffled by his orange hood

The smell of exhaust fumes hit me as soon as it pulled up; the doors banged open revealing the grouchiest women in the world… Mrs Crabtree. Yep, that's right; she still works for the bus company, which means that I have to see her horrific face every single fucking weekday. (Not to mention, having to put with her ranting as well…)

"GET ON! WE'RE RUNNING LATE!" She screamed at us, her nostrils flaring

"Actually, we're not," I protested, "its only eight-thirty; school doesn't start until nine…"

I felt a sharp poke in my back… I'm guessing it was Kyle.

"Shut-up fatass!" he whispered in my ear, angrily, "she won't let us on the bus if you're rude to her."

Ms Crabtree's eyebrows immediately curved inwards after my comment

"GET ON THE BUS, KID!" she screeched, sending a wave of terror throughout the isle.

"Yes, ma'am…" I said, quickly taking a seat at the front.

I passed the time gazing out the window at nothing in particular, as the trees whipped past. I was thinking. I heard Kyle and Stan up the back, laughing their girlish little laughs; probably another fat joke, I assumed god, I hate them 

"… then Priest Maxi blessed himself with the water for _seven days!_"

Another eruption of laughter; except this time, _I_ was laughing as well. I knew what they were talking about; the day I peed in the holy water and Priest Maxi blessed himself with it for a whole week. My chest swelled with pride, knowing that something I did six years ago still remained funny to them. I lay back in my chair, feeling a little happier than I did seven seconds ago.

It didn't take long to arrive at South Park High. One of the advantages of sitting at the front was that you didn't have to push and shove just to get off. I smile, as I easily stepped off the bus, whilst everyone else got squashed. I was just glad to get out of that smelly, cat-pee vehicle…

_Actually, no I wasn't…_

The weather seemed to get colder by the second and it was snowing so much, I could hardly see anyone around me. But, I though I could use this to my advantage. I picked up a large wad of snow and rolled it into a ball.

Nothing like a snowball fight to kick off the start of the year I think to myself, as I hurl it with all my might toward the back of Kyle's head.

"Owwww!" he shrieked, as soon as it hit him, "who the hell did that?"

I laugh and pick up another ball of snow… this time Stan was my victim.

"Fuck off!" he yelled furiously, rubbing his head

I ducked down behind a shrub and launched two more snowballs at Kyle. Both smacked in the stomach, knocking him flat onto his ass.

I fell into the snow in hysterics, laughing till tears came down my cheeks. It was one of the funniest things I've ever seen. I heard the crunching of snow and looked up, seeing two infuriated faces.

"Damn it Cartman!" Kyle cried, wiping snow off himself, "That wasn't funny!"

I laughed even louder; partially because it _was_ funny, partially to piss Kyle off.

"Aw, you guys, seriously… that was awesome…"

"Damn it, Cartman! You haven't changed since Grade three! Grow up and act your age, for once."

I stand up, looking Kyle in eye, trying my best to seem serious (even though I was in fits of laughter on the inside)

"Kyle, I have one word to say to that…

… _SUCK MY BALLS!"_

"That's three words, Cartman…"

"What?"

"'Suck my balls' is three words, fatass, not _one…_"

"Well, it's a bit late in telling me. Besides… who cares? Only you would pick up on that because you're a _nerd_"

"I am not a nerd! God, even a monkey could pick up on that…"

"Shut-up Jew! You are so a nerd; you wear glasses, you study twenty-four seven and you suck up to the teachers like Nancy Carrageen"

"I only try hard at school to get good marks, and unlike you, I actually _want_ to get somewhere in life. And who the fuck is Nancy Carrageen anyway?"

"You're a teachers pet, Kyle… everybody knows that"

"… God, you're stupid, Cartman"

"Art class is a nightmare,"

…I'm assuming Kyle would be saying in his head right now. For me, this is the only class I look forward attending. Not because it's a bludge, and sure as hell not because of the work… because this is the only class I get to annoy the crap out of Kyle Brofloski, and not get into trouble for it. The idiot art teacher, Mrs Norton, just sits up the front like a zombie sipping her coffee, while we roam free around the classroom doing what we like. It's basically like an extended lunchtime, without the food. It's awesome.

But, unfortunately, Miss Norton was sick and didn't come to school today, so instead we have a substitute teaching the class. _Mrs Franklin hates me._ Ever since she filled in for my English class and I peed in her cup of coffee while she at the toilet, she has made it her life mission to make me suffer. And she has done exactly that…

… _Curse the Alphabet_

So, here I am, sitting next to my most loathed enemy, Kyle Brofloski. Mrs Franklin knows very well that Jew and I can't stand to be in the same room with each other, let alone sit at the same desk together. He is shifted tightly over at the side with his head down, trying to stay as far away from me as possible; (although, this is kind of _impossible_, since I take up three-quarters of the desk.) Stan and Kenny are sitting together two desks behind us and I'm guessing that they are just as bored out of their brains as I am.

After a couple more uncomfortably silent minutes, Mrs Franklin finally stood up and got ready to give us today's uninteresting task.

"Ok, class" she said in a tone more tedious than Barbra Streisand, "today we will be moulding things out of clay"

Oh great, a re-enactment of fourth grade I think to myself, involuntarily observing Mrs Franklin's huge, flaring nostrils.

"There is to be no moulding inappropriate or vulgar objects out of the clay," she continued, her eyes shooting in my direction at the word 'inappropriate,' "I've been informed by Mrs Norton that four male students in this class have been producing art out of disgusting and insulting objects, such as detailed pieces of the genitalia area…"

It was an agony trying to keep my persistent laughter from erupting.

"Anyway, I'm going to present an example of a clay model that is suitable to mould, so we have an understanding of what is and what is not acceptable..."

She was still glaring directly at me. Her voice as cold as ice, as bitter as vinegar. Her lips cracked into a satisfactory, sour grin as she placed a large clay mould of a pig on her desk. A fat, ugly pig. Just like me.

"Do you understand, class?"

"Yesss…"

"Good. I will now distribute the lumps of clay."

I glance over at Kyle from the corner of my eye… he had a smirk on his face as he moulded his lump of clay. I didn't doubt that he was moulding an object resembling me. I grunted and shook my head, trying to focus my attention back to my own project.

I haven't been known to be the creative one at all in the class. I was quite aware that I had no artistic talent whatsoever, but I didn't care. I squeezed the clay hard in my hand, enjoying the sensation of it oozing between my fingers. Enjoying it, because I portrayed Kyle's limp body as the clay; being squeezed, pulverized, compressed between my fingers.

God, I hate him so much right now.

I glanced back over to him; he still had a smug look on his face. I discreetly tried to get a glimpse of what he was moulding; a big ball of clay, then a smaller ball.

The head and body… I assumed.

Then four tiny balls; he squashed them down with his palms and stuck them onto the bigger ball.

The feet… 

He rolled a thin sausage of clay between his palms and attached it to the front of the head. In conclusion, he stuck two thin flaps onto both sides of the head and dotted two eye holes with his pencil.

It's coming back… that throbbing, pulsating ache in my heart.

I shook my head and drew my attention back to my own mould. The clay to slipping through my hands like jelly; my palms are sweating and I can feel little beads of perspiration running down my forehead.

God, what the fuck is wrong with me? 

My eyes shift nervously to Kyle's direction. He is looking at me; looking at me with that smug grin still glued on his face. In fury, I whip my head around, piercing him with fuming brown eyes.

"What the fuck are you looking at, Jew?" I hiss through my teeth, clenching the clay in rage.

He snickered, and my eyes catch site of his mould; he had added a little beanie moulded impressively out of the clay on the head of the elephant; a hat strikingly simular to mine. Even though I pretend to be oblivious to this, I can't help but realize that his model is practically a spitting image of me.

The ache is intensifying. I feel the lump in my throat swelling as my eyes start to water.

Oh, please, not here… I think to myself, my vision going blurry from the welling tears.

My eyes dart over to the Jew; all I see is a mini-Cartman clay model being waved in my direction behind a smug face. Then, finally, I burst.

Thug!

I slam my clammy fist down onto Kyle's elephant with such force, that the impact shakes the whole table and sends echoes throughout the whole room.

I smile in satisfaction as he blinked at me in revelation. My smile soon disappeared as it hit me; I didn't have to look up to realize that everyone was staring at me… the striking silence was enough to confirm it. I crimped my mouth to the side and looked up bashfully, to the infuriated person in front of me. In fuming silence, she stretched her arm to the direction of the door. I sighed and shyly struggled out of my chair, sensing 25 pairs of eyes watching my every move. Mrs Franklin eyed me furiously as I did the Walk of Shame out of her classroom.

Thank God it's Friday, I think to myself, as images of Kyle's stupid elephant danced around in my mind.


End file.
